Page 4 of Agor

A shocked “humph” came out of his mouth, followed by a tortured groan as he sank to his knees. His moan of pain seemed like the most beautiful music to my ears. I pivoted on my heel again, ready to run or die trying.

“Get here, you—” He yanked on my ankle, dropping me to the ground.

I kicked at his hand, but his grip was firm. Pulling on my leg, he dragged me to him. I kicked again. But from this position, the kick came to his ribcage, which didn’t affect him at all. I twisted to face him with my fists raised to defend myself.

Stretching over me, he grabbed my wrist, then straddled my thighs, rendering my kicks useless. With my free fist, I landed a punch in his jaw. The blow reverberated through my entire arm, making me cry out in pain. He just smirked, as if he’d received a slap from a kid.

Catching both my wrists in his one hand, he stretched my arms over my head.

“Stop squirming like a tadpole,” he growled, leaning over me.

His bulk pressed into me. His hot breath hit my face with...a refreshing scent of mint.

Why mint? It came so unexpected that it startled me for a moment.

A rusty smell of blood, a rotten stench of decomposing flesh, a foul reek of stale bog water—all would’ve been much more suitable for this monster.

“Or maybe... Squirm some more.” He rocked his hips into me, the bulge between his legs swollen and hard.

My heart dropped with dread. Now I really wished his dog would’ve snapped my neck earlier.

Masking my fear, I scoffed in his face. “So, getting kicked in the nuts gets you hard?”

I’d rather have him angry than horny. Maybe he’d kill me faster then?

He looked more confused than angry, however. His lips parted, his tongue wetting his lips between the two thick tusks that jutted up from his lower jaw. The right tusk had designs carved into it. The carved grooves were filled with gold in a pattern I didn’t understand.

Focus replaced the confusion in his expression as he studied my face.

“You’re a vicious little minx, aren’t you? You put up quite a fight,” he said with a low rumble of appreciation deep in his thick throat.

“Oh I’m not done yet!”

I jerked my arms, arched my back, and strained all my muscles in the desperate attempt to push him off me.

It was like trying to move a solid mountain. He didn’t budge. My struggles only seemed to excite him more, as his cock grew even bigger against my leg.

Just how big could it get?

I really, really didn’t want to find out.

“Fuck...” I dropped my shoulders back to the ground.

He drew a long breath, his nostrils flaring.

“You smell like cranberries,” he murmured.

His voice was more of a vibration than a sound. It resonated through my chest with a soft tickle in my throat. Something must be wrong with me, because despite the threat of death and the chill of the water seeping from the ground, I didn’t entirely hate the press of his large, warm body against mine.

I’d never had this much hard male flesh piled on top of me before, and something about the sensation was...thrilling.

Gods, if I had to die today, why didn’t you make it happen before I made this vile discovery about myself?

In my thirty-one years, I’d had my share of men both on top and under me. None of them felt quite so promising and alluring as this horrid, murderous orc.

“I need a taste,” he rumbled.

His tongue darted out, and he dragged a long warm lick up my neck.

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